


Wham - Bam - Thank You, Mr. Jam

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Bodily Fluids, Dark Humor, Dubious Consent, Few Spoilers, M/M, Male Slash, Male Solo, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, objectophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a toy that catches Trevor's eye & it should have came with a warning label.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wham - Bam - Thank You, Mr. Jam

**Author's Note:**

> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE. 
> 
> i saw Trevor's bed in the LS apartment & i thought "WTF Happened Here?!?!?!"

Mr. Raspberry Jam was just a normal, average cotton-filled glass-eyed stuffed bear as you would expect from something either shipped from China or stockpiled at Los Santos’ dollar depots (because of lead poisoning allegations), there was something about that cute little stitched pout and lavender-scented fur which made Trevor look twice before sidling up to the dresser the little stuffed animal was perched on, dropping his trash bag full of clothes on the way, “Mmmm…” 

“What do we have here?” Trevor growled suggestively, adjusting the pressure in his crotch as it began to press up against his workpants, he licked his lips and lifted the stuffed animal up to his level, he poked at the soft belly and shivered, “You’re just so-” 

“Trevor, Floyd’s going for some pizza. Anchovies and olives, right-?” Wade said from the living room like he was tripping over his words. 

Trevor barked just as pissed as he was for interruptions, “You want the fucking drill again, Wade, because I’m feeling extra fucking edgy this morning without my pork soup and parmesan!” 

“Sorry, T!” Wade flew for the door, just as Trevor was about to melt back into his Mac-Daddy-mood, the innocent voice came through a crack in the door as a quick thought to appease him hopefully, “Wait ‘til we get back, ‘kay?” 

“I apologize for Wade, he can be really, y’know - Stupid. You can call me Trevor,” Trevor snuggled into Mr. Raspberry’s tummy and licked the fluffy seam stitched along the tail up along the soft belly-lump, he made his way into the room next to Floyd’s with walls and bed washed in soft colors, he set Mr. Raspberry Jam down on the newly-made bed and stripped out of his workpants and plaid shirt, he turned around and brushed a hand up his back where his scarred skin was covered in black ink, “Like it? Got it done yesterday, it shows off my scars. Yea, that tattoo artist sure was a de-light-ful fuck. Mm-mm, now you just can’t find quality ass like flab around the sphincter of Doyle’s first cousin.” 

He remembered himself walking into the parlor and getting his tattooed cross on his left arm removed (because Michael was Not dead), the guy was twenty-five years young and the sweetest man you can see sporting a mohawk-haircut and several dozen piercings, the guy was in short prime high-time compared to his cordon bleu cousins whom ran the great American drive-thru franchise of meth catering to the needy (which was all of Sandy Shores). It all started with a simple phrase ‘Private part tattoos, those are my favorite-’ and right after the kid got done inking in a scorpion on Trevor’s thigh and licking the front of his briefs ‘-That’ll cost extra’, Trevor threw him over the desk of sketches and reamed until all his muscles tightened, giving himself a cramp which he ignored (cumming was key, quitting was a no-no). 

“Okay, okay, no need to get testy-” As nice as reveling in memories were, Trevor caught Mr. Raspberry Jam’s pout, he hurried out of his briefs and threw them at the nearest wall (which they stuck to), hissing seductively, “There! Bare as Missy LaLa!” 

“You want me to-?” Trevor gulped as he pulled a black dildo from inside the dresser, he was both salivating and worked up to hear the silent orders given to him by the wordless glass eyes staring (up) at him, he licked the broad apple-like head, tasting something close to ‘fishy’, he again Heard the bear say for him to dig under Debra’s pillow, out came a delicate pink dildo complete with a vibrating clit-massager and a french-tickler tip, Trevor waggled the dildo at the stuffed bear, “Oh, where have you been hiding, Mr. Jam? Does Floyd or Debra know about your dirty mind?” 

Trevor glanced from the pink dildo to Mr. Raspberry Jam, he nodded knowingly, “Challenge accepted.” 

Forgoing the tub of chicken grease or cup of leftover lard, Trevor sat up on the bed and positioned Mr. Raspberry Jam at the foot, he felt those glass eyes watching, peeling his skin away as he bent his knees up and spread his legs, he positioned the pink dildo up against his ass, he licked his lips for the bear sitting cutely on the delicate light blue covers, “Are you sure?” 

‘What’s wrong, Trevor-boo? Are you a virgin?’ came the sweet high-pitch voice, he could almost hear Mr. Raspberry Jam scoff, the last thing Trevor wanted to do was disappoint the little bear, he growled, “It’s been decades since I let anyone fuck me! There was Ron, but he talks too fucking much about aliens! Wade can never get a clue when I actually Want to take cock sometime-!” 

In reality, hookers were Not into fucking their customers with a condom-covered hotdog, neither were any guys with a shred of survival instincts ready to even go near a horny Trevor Phillips, (because he was twice as dangerous, thrice as scary); he tried to be nice, but only edible broke toy-boys ever had the intention of stealing Trevor’s wallet after kissing up to him. Just when he thought pretty kiss-ass boys were forever like Vangelico Diamonds, they got sarcastic, needy, addicted to his product and started calling him ‘old man’, and boys with bad mouths tend to end up in his fridge or at the bottom of Sandy Shores’ noxious lake. Again, Mr. Raspberry Jam was getting impatient, Trevor threw the dildo up into himself, shoving against his dry walls, stifling heat surged up his legs and settled at the top of his head, his sphincter burned like he was sitting ass-first on electric fence (quite common while he was drunk, high or looking for a quick heart-stopper jump-start). If anyone else fucked him dry like this, he would have busted their kneecap like he did to Ron, chest heaving and he was so sure by now he was bleeding deep inside, seeing as the upper section above the dildo trickled a pooling scalding liquid. 

“For the Fuck of Mike- OW!” Trevor grit out through his teeth, beating his head up against the backboard, his eyes shut hard until they spun behind his eyelids, confusing light, dark, vein-y and spotty, his breath burned his lips as he heard Mr. Raspberry Jam ask sweetly ‘Do you know how fucking lovely you look, Trevor?’ 

“I can’t say I do, Mr. Jam-” Trevor bit his lip hard, his eyes cracking open to see the expression on Mr. Raspberry Jam’s face, (which had not moved or deviated,) he could say the bear was pleased and maybe lusty as a grizzly on mating season, there was something appealing about the way the little bear was restraining himself from doing just that, he put his finger on the dildo’s click-switch for the artificial cock to do something interesting other than cause him internal bleeding. 

‘Not yet, Trevor. No stroking yourself, either!’ Mr. Raspberry Jam sure was demanding, Trevor nearly clicked the switch anyway, he was so close, ‘You’ll find something for yourself in the drawer on your left and grab the scarf.’ 

Rolling over felt like his stomach twisted itself and became a throbbing knot of heat, he pulled out a vibrating capsule, a massager and a sheer scarf in purple cheetah print, Trevor licked his lips and waited for the go (not that he was limited on imagination, he was just masochistic for his own thrill), and there it came in a high-pitched voice only he could hear. Trevor laid the long capsule lengthwise on the underside of his too-hard cock, imagining the vibrations buzzing against his vein and just below the head where his foreskin was stretched tight around the head. The scarf wrapped around several times before he tied it at the base, Mr. Raspberry Jam was still unsatisfied with the show, so then Trevor sneered as he heard the little bear tell him to click both toys on the lowest setting, with the clit-tickler positioned in low like a hum over Trevor’s perineum and the capsule sending slow but steady pulses through his firmly-fasted cock, he felt his stomach again knot as the vibrator head rotated against his prostate. 

The dry, rubber scraping against his insides, swirling his insides but just as easily dissipated and began sliding over and over his prostate like a plastic-covered tongue, the smooth nub vibrating over the tiny stretch of skin between his sphincter and scrotum lit with a thunder of rolling nerve endings and ended with the tingles crawling up his cock’s crown. His short nails dug into his own hips, the dirty, chipped nails leaving beads of blood as he scratched up his sides through the many but short hairs sticking up on end in the center of his chest, each breath became more of a snort and grunt as he caught Mr. Raspberry Jam’s glass eyes trained on his cock. Trevor pinched his nipples and thrust his hips towards the little bear, he rolled up unto his knees and swayed his hips side to side, just a few inches shy of touching Mr. Raspberry Jam’s tiny plastic nose, the vibrator shifted inside him as it adjusted to the new angles of his body. 

“I bet you just fucking love seeing me like this,” Trevor hissed, dropping himself down on the dildo against the soft sheets, he bounced himself a few more times before hearing the voice say too innocently, ‘Put that fuck-stick on full-speed-ahead and lean back.’ 

Left hand reaching down and pinching his ass cheek, Trevor switched the dial higher, he fell back against the headboard right as a tangle of sparks shocked his skin, wringing his balls tight and long ropes of cum spurting out of his pisshole, he might have screamed or he might have roared but either way he lay flat on his back. Long moments after his breath calmed, he released every muscle from their locked state, his ass dribbling something warm and thick, the thinning areas drying against his skin (It’s official: definite internal bleeding), still turned on to go flaccid, Trevor squeezed his balls and pinched his left nipple at the same time. Cold sweat rolling down the center of his ass cheeks tickled, even more so as the wet bead teasingly slithered around his sphincter, every once in while catching itself against the hair on his ass, but eventually evaporated in the dry air that was a Los Santos morning. 

Thin drops of cum oozed out of him being as the vibrator was still wringing every thread of energy from him, his limbs shook and jumped at the overload of sensation making his cock and ass throb, he wanted to lay back and savor the moment but Mr. Raspberry Jam had other plans, he groaned, “Not unless you’re joining, I’m not moving, Mr. Jam-’ 

He bent himself back over, his spine cracking after disengaging himself from his former position, he knelt forward with the fluffy little bear right in front of his face, “You just don’t quit, do you?” 

‘I like the attention, Trevor. Don’t you?’ came the high-pitch voice showing some type of quiet friskiness, Trevor only shuddered after the vibrator again shifted and his painfully sensitive cockhead brushed against the cum-sopped sheets. 

It was true, he liked being fucked by strangers more than acquaintances because there was little keeping them from being awkward in bed and even less known about Trevor’s mean violent-streak, (his appearance alone was like a blinking ‘insult me’ sign, whereas he preached his ‘fuck the world’ attitude); nobody but strangers would ever fuck a psycho. He let his ‘boy’ out of his pants and let it swing like the freak-flag it was, what did he have to be sorry about, granted he wasted a decade and then some grieving over Michael Townely, he was over that shit now that he had an unwilling audience to show he gave a good fuck and even less of a fuck for the self-inflicted self-drowning cesspool called Vinewood society. Exhausted but unable to turn his ‘on’ switch Off, he cranked up the capsule to full, his balls barely given the time to work up a new load, he spilled all over the bloodstained sheets, his cock again squeezing weak pulses of cum afterwards, ignoring the pop in his shoulders, he reached for Mr. Raspberry Jam and thrust downwards into the fluffy plush. The bear’s right glass eye caught unto the scarf’s thread and he ground himself straight into Mr. Raspberry Jam’s eye, leaving a quickly growing patch of stiff wetness. 

Trevor blindly grasped for the black dildo he forgot, the fucking thing was as big as a woman’s fist, but he worked it into his mouth, his lips sliding over the head and unable to go any further unless if he wanted to rupture his windpipe in the process, a high voice faded out by the squeak of the bed springs and his own harsh gasping around the huge dildo, ‘Harder! Faster! Are you even trying!’ 

His sore back worked his cock into the dry softness beneath him, his own arms burning from holding his weight over the flimsy mattress, he sucked like the dildo was his last meal and fucked like Mr. Raspberry Jam was his last lay, the inside of his ass was both sore and over stimulated to the point he nearly swore off prostate exams for life no matter how many tumors his balls collected. One last thrust orgasm shook him violently, the mattress unable to hold him any longer, he fell right off the bed and shouted, “Fuck safe-words-!” 

Silences were never awkward for others, but they bothered the hell out of Trevor, he was a talking machine always expressing either an opinion or an odd facet of life (facts) to anyone listening: he suddenly wondered why there was no wet sensation of cum splattering his chest, he sat up on the mattress (but just as quickly pulled the dildo from himself, and untied the scarf from his half-hard dick) and pulled Mr. Raspberry Jam from his cock. Apparently, he impaled the little perv in the midst of thinking up ways to kill Michael De Santa, Trevor lifted the bear up to his mouth and wriggled his tongue inside the sopped cotton filling, the taste was sharper, pungent and sour compared to the other cocks he had sucked recently, but he was so sated he passed up the opportunity to think of his dietary choices leading to his unusually-scented/flavored body fluids. Trevor shrugged thinking it was one of those days he could no longer hold off a shower, he took out his iFruit phone and pulled up several one-day-delivery warehouse sites. 

In no time flat came a knock at the door, Trevor pulled out a pair of lacy pink panties and slid them over Mr. Raspberry Jam’s naughty parts, he said, “Aren’t you the most adorable mammal alive?” 

Trevor came to the door the same shade of afterglow and naked, dried blood running down his inner thighs and right hand still sticky from cum, the post delivery guy threw down the packages and jumped over the balcony in terror, Trevor only shouted before he picked up the packages and kicked the door closed, “So what I fuck bears! It’s a fucking lifestyle choice this great land preaches every day, you anti-american bastard!” 

He ripped open a package sporting a plastic blonde blow-up doll and started airing the sucker up through a plastic button on her left tit, once more were Mr. Raspberry Jam’s eyes on him, Trevor paused for a minute to inform as calmly as possible, “She means nothing to me, Mr. Jam.” 

For sure this was the start of a good day: crash Johnny K’s retirement party, have some adult-recreational time, make some new fuck-buddies and find the antithetical-to-dead friend he found in Vinewood’s back alley.


End file.
